


Demons Run

by SlightlyTwistedSilverware



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Catch The Dr Who Reference, Eventual SkyeWard, F/M, I Can't Believe How Twisted I Really Am, I'm Sticking To It, Someone Else Made Me Do It, Tags Are Fun, That's My Story, Who Likes Happy Endings?, series 2 au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-20 15:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3655851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlightlyTwistedSilverware/pseuds/SlightlyTwistedSilverware
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a particularly difficult April morning, she had imagined that her mother was a queen tasked with ruling over a distant enchanted land, and that she had been stolen away as a baby by a great evil.</p>
<p>Well, she was half right...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [little_angry_kitten18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_angry_kitten18/gifts).



> If you like your SkyeWard warm and fluffy, this maybe isn't for you, sorry. If you like to be emotionally damaged by what you read until you're rocking in a corner and snot sobbing, then come on in! If you plan on reading, thank you, and if you're ducking for cover then, yeah that's probably wise. 
> 
> I'm not sure how regular updates will be. I have to do real life and stuff :-(

Several months had passed since San Juan and there had been no fairy tale endings. 

Skye would very much have liked to have lived happily ever after in the wake of thwarting Hydra’s plans; it seemed like a nice idea, in theory. However, when you could take down San Francisco with a major earthquake on the back of a surprise sneeze, she wasn’t entirely certain that you were deserving of a life consisting of rainbows and puppies. 

For as long as Skye could remember, her life had lacked the kind of bedtime story magic that she had once so naively believed in. All alone in the orphanage as a child, she had often made up stories to comfort herself between all the false promises and wrong fits. Once upon a particularly difficult April morning, she had imagined that her mother was a queen tasked with ruling over a distant enchanted land, and that she had been stolen away as a baby by a great evil. Skye had written the entire, rather elaborate tale down in her ‘feelings book’, which had been thrust upon her and every other waif at the home by Sister Cecilia as a ‘healing exercise’. Skye vaguely recalled something to do with griffins and a cursed nursemaid, and then the nuns had gotten upset when she had stabbed Jason Butterfeld in the thigh with a drawing compass after proclaiming him to be in league with the dark forces that had orchestrated her kidnap. 

Of course, at a very wise 8 years old, Skye had believed nothing of the sort; the crime in question was her retaliation for Jason having dumped the class mice into her locker at recess. When she had opened the door and found one of the poor creatures lying prone in her lunch box, having run out of air after becoming trapped beneath the lid, Skye’s temper had flared. Nonetheless, the principal and the nuns had been far from impressed, and Skye had been forced to endure a weekly session with a specialist child psychologist to address her failure to distinguish between fantasy and reality. After the whole fiasco was over and the scandal had died down somewhat, Sister Anne-Clare had made a point of taking Skye aside to discuss the situation. 

“I know you don’t want to be here, Mary,” the nun had lamented, one hand fixed on the young girl’s shoulder as she peered into the depths of her brown eyes, “and sometimes our fantasies seem like a far better place to get lost in than the real world. But you have to remember, no matter how bad it gets, God has never abandoned you.”

“So it’s God’s will that my parents didn’t want me?” she had spat, not bothering to conceal her scowl of irritation. It was a concept she hadn’t understood entirely but one the nuns had spoken of often, and Skye had latched onto it in her anger, prepared to use it as a weapon however she saw fit.

“Perhaps it is,” Sister Anne-Clare had retorted, “and I can’t tell you why. Heaven knows if I could, I would. But it’s not up to you or I to question the Almighty. All I know is that where He is involved, there is always a silver lining. You just have to look for it hard enough.” 

There had certainly been no silver linings to Skye having gained her powers, and she had looked so hard that she had almost made herself cross-eyed. One of her best friends had died for her; crumbled to dust in fact right in front of her. Whilst the team had never said as much, Skye felt the weight of their accusation every time one of them so much as glanced her way. Their silent disdain was just one more reason to add to the ever growing list of things that made Coulson removing Skye from active duty a wise decision. 

Her abilities appeared tied to her emotions and her mental state, and Skye seemed to be rapidly losing her grip on both of those. Truthfully, she was afraid - more afraid than she remembered being since bleeding out on a cold basement floor with two holes in her gut. 

She knew that despite Fitz's assurances that control would come with time, and May’s determination to teach her to master her new found abilities, her mind was in too much turmoil for her to do much else other than allow the curse to consume her. And consume her it did, both quickly and hungrily, devouring every last shred of the self confidence and capability she had worked so hard to cultivate since the fall of SHIELD. 

When she found herself and Coulson standing toe to toe in a secluded cabin in the woods, she was only faintly surprised; there was a small part of her that had assumed he would have held out longer before accepting the inevitable, but she received the order to stay put with a sense of almost relief. She was less thrilled about the prescription for sleeping pills that Simmons’ had issued, but the dark circles staining the skin underneath her eyes left her in no position to argue. She did, however, consider railing and ranting rather impressively when Coulson presented her with the box containing a pair of ‘magic’ gloves that apparently carried a list of considerable side effects he was unwilling to disclose. It wasn’t an entirely unexpected move- that Jemma might try to formulate a way of eradicating Skye’s powers- since the scientist appeared to despise everything about them. After her initial outburst, Skye consented to the new medication and laid the gloves on the kitchen table, no longer feeling betrayed by just her own body but also by her team. She had assumed that nothing could have felt worse than discovering how Ward had played Judas; she had been proven wrong. 

After Coulson left, the prevailing silence dried her tears - left her apparently physically unable to cry them and, instead of feeling relived, Skye felt robbed. For several days, she ate and she slept and she watched TV like a normal person, but the world around her seemed dulled somehow and so she lingered on the edges of it as an observer rather than a participant. 

By the end of the third day, the boredom became too much and so Skye hacked mainframes, wrote reams of code and implanted deadly Trojans like nothing had ever happened; like nothing was absent from her life and she wasn’t irreparably broken. She chugged coffee and listened to her i-pod as she worked, maintaining the façade of normalcy well but under no illusions that anyone who truly knew her would be able to see through it, should they choose to visit her desolate little prison. Skye knew that she paled in comparison to that girl who had thrown herself into life with both feet and eyes wide open. She had become a husk, and she hardly had enough energy left to truly care. As long as she didn’t feel, the world around her didn’t quake, and nobody could be hurt. 

A few times she considered leaving to find her father, but just opening the front door and peering out into the dense woodland beyond was enough to trigger a panic attack significant enough to thwart that plan. Although Skye had distanced herself from the team by taking up residence in the cage before she had left, she had at least still felt safe with them. Movie nights and team dinners and holiday celebrations had happened around her, Fitz always trying to nudge her back into the fold, but Skye stood at a safe distance, only mildly content that it was a vantage point from which she couldn’t wreak destruction. She supposed really that she should be grateful for her seclusion, where the worst her powers could do was fell a hundred year old oak or disturb a flock of migrating geese. And for a few hours, she found that she was perhaps a little grateful that the burden of worry had been removed, that she no longer had to spend every waking moment trying to push down the tide that swelled inside of her; that was, until the night that the helicopters came.

The whirring blades wrenched Skye from an uncharacteristically deep slumber, and she shot up with her eyes wide as a spotlight illuminated her entire bedroom. In her haste to leap out of bed, Skye sent the glass of water on her night stand skittering across the room with her arm. The liquid drenched the wooden floorboards as the glass shattered, but Skye couldn’t find the time to care as she peered out of the window and counted three ominous black helicopters circling low above the cabin. 

She barely registered the ringing of her phone as the pounding of her own heart in her ears threatened to drown out all else, but Skye snatched up the cell and connected the call after a few moments. 

“You have to run.”

The voice belonged to Melinda May, but it was strained and fraught with dread in a way that Skye had never heard before. Instantly she felt sick, wondering just who these people were that had managed to instill even the smallest shred of fear in the Cavalry. 

“Wh-who are they?” Skye managed to choke out as she half crawled across the room in order to duck below the beam of light. She managed to snag the faded navy blue SHIELD hoodie she had abandoned on the chair before bedtime, and tugged it on over her head. 

“No time to explain, just get out of there. Keep your phone with you. Sit tight somewhere safe and I’ll be in touch as soon as possible for your co-ordinates,” May promised, clearly working hard to inject her tone with reassurance.

“I... I’ll try...” Skye faltered, already spilling out into the lounge and searching for her sneakers, which she spotted half under the couch. “They have the place surrounded and the fence...”

“Fitz has taken the fence offline, it’s harmless. Just do whatever you have to do to stay safe.”

And there it was. The unspoken but very real invitation to use her powers; to make the world tremble and force it to swallow up those that pursued her. Skye swallowed hard, a protest poised on her lips, but Melinda disconnected the call and she was left alone, save for the very insistent whirring of helicopter blades. 

Jamming the cell phone into the pocket of her hoodie, Skye ran for the back exit, throwing it open without even pausing to consider other options. She knew that there were none. 

As she stepped out into the cool night air, her hair was whipped up around her, almost blinding her as she impulsively veered right and started to run. From her peripheral vision, she saw figures clad all in black and packing rifles begin to descend from the closest helicopter on bungee ropes. She ran faster, pushing herself into the trees and deliberately tearing through the most overgrown parts of the woodland. The helicopters would be unable to follow her visually, unless they were equipped with thermal imaging technology. Even so, their only means of pursuit would be on foot and, with her unpredictable and highly destructive powers, Skye was fairly sure she could gain the upper hand on the ground. 

She continued on, breathing heavily more from fear than exertion, although her heart thrummed in her chest from a combination of both. She changed course once again when she registered the sound of something large and clumsy plowing through the trees directly in her wake. When a chorus of loud voices barking unintelligible orders began to sound worryingly close, Skye made a left, hoping blindly that she was still heading in the general direction of the fence. Briefly, she considered the possibility that there would be a team waiting there for her, readied to take her down, but she pushed the thought away and resolved to deal with that scenario if it arose. 

She had at least banked on making it to the fence, so when she felt a sharp sting in her right shoulder and her body lurched to the ground of its own accord, Skye was more than faintly surprised. She let out a groan that was inaudible over the aircraft and the gruff yelling that seemed to be closing in on her from all angles and Skye realised, too late, that she had been herded. The helicopters above the cabin had been intended to drive her into the foliage, where hostiles had already been lying in wait, just willing her to step into the centre of their formation - which she had done with so much predictability that it was embarrassing. 

Skye’s head began to spin and her stomach lurched so violently that she was afraid she would projectile vomit its contents, but she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees nonetheless. Her vision was clouding, confirming to Skye that she had been hit with some sort of tranquiliser dart rather than an actual bullet. She considered reaching over her shoulder to pull it out but decided that that would be a waste of valuable energy- something that was fast ebbing out of her thanks to the drug pumping through her system. 

“Screw you!” Skye yelled, wincing as she slurred the barb and almost toppled back over into the dirt. She managed to hold her position, digging her palms into the ground and centring herself with the pain caused by the many tiny rocks cutting into her skin. 

“Over here! Hostile neutralised and acquired...” an unfamiliar male voice boomed, and Skye immediately bristled as she realised that the douchebag was talking about her. She may have been down but she most certainly was neither neutralised nor acquired. Her lips curled back on impulse and Skye let out a feral snarl. The owner of the voice stepped through the trees into the minute clearing, brandishing his weapon in warning. 

Without a further thought, Skye pressed her hands deeper into the damp mud and focused on allowing the last of her rage and anxiety to spill over the top. For once, her powers complied and Skye felt the ground begin to vibrate. Her heart soared just a little and she bit down on her lip to keep from passing out as she let go of the control ropes that tethered her abilities. The earth trembled and the branches of the trees overheard shook, sending the last of the forest creatures running for cover. However, as the tremors began to grow in magnitude, Skye felt another sharp sting pierce the top of her thigh and she pitched over onto her side. The quaking ceased at once and Skye heard a bark of laughter, her captors clearly mocking her failure. 

She fought hard against unconsciousness, even as her vision began to blacken at the edges. For the first time, she wished she could make the entire area shake, bring everything crashing down around their ears and kill them all, just out of sheer spite of the fact that they had dared to kick her when she was already down. Instead, a weakened Skye rolled herself onto her back, deciding that she at least wanted to catch a quick glimpse of her abductors before she succumbed to darkness. She expected them to approach cautiously, cuffs outstretched and weapons ready; her money was on Hydra, and they were nothing if not slow and steady in their advance. After all, they had hidden in wait for the best part of five decades before attempting to overthrow SHIELD. 

“Scum...” Skye hissed, fisting the crunchy Autumn leaves on the ground at her side as she made one last ditch attempt to push herself back up onto her feet. Nothing happened, except a single tear worked its way free from Skye’s eye; just one more thing to be horribly embarrassed about in what was turning out to be a crappy week. So, with her dignity in tatters, Skye finally lay still and waited for the nearest operative to come and scoop her up.

However, instead, Skye found herself illuminated by a blinding blue light that, for one second, she confused for the spot beam of a helicopter. That theory was blown well and truly out of the water when she came nose to nose with a sandy haired stranger whose easy smile did little to gloss over his complete lack of eyes. 

Skye could not have mustered a scream if she had tried, her head lolling back and her whole body growing heavier as the sounds of rapid gunfire filled the air around her. Curiously, the electric blue orb that surrounded both her and the mystery man seemed to be deflecting the bullets, which ricocheted off harmlessly into the trees. The shouts and cries of the soldiers only intensified as Skye found herself plucked from the ground and dangling limply in the arms of her would be rescuer, or perhaps kidnapper; she was not entirely certain which.

The man, or monster as it appeared, took just a moment to incline his face towards her, his grin intensifying as though it was the most exhilarating experience of his life just to be holding Skye in his arms. 

“Hello, beautiful,” he purred, and Skye’s eyes rolled into the back of her head before she had a chance to register the fact that they were literally hurtling through time and space. Drug induced sleep swallowed her up and Skye was grateful for small mercies.

x-x-x 

When Skye came to, it was with the overwhelming urge to vomit, and she barely had time to roll from her back onto her side before she was heaving all over the grey stone floor that she found herself upon. 

After a minute, the rolling in her stomach eased and Skye clambered unsteadily onto her knees, pressing a palm to her damp forehead. There was a horribly insistent pounding in her skull and the entire room still appeared to be swaying, but Skye managed to crawl over to the wall, which she hugged to keep herself somewhat upright. The extra support allowed her to turn into the room she had found herself within, and Skye took in her surroundings quickly and efficiently, noting the white washed plaster, the lack of windows and the solitary metal door set in the adjacent wall. There was a double mattress pressed flat into the far corner of the room and a bucket in the other, the purpose of which was immediately obvious to Skye. Her lip instinctively curled at the prospect but she decided to worry about that particular matter when it became pressing; luckily for Skye, she’d never been one to need to pee when she was nervous. 

Overhead, dim strip lighting flickered, casting strange shadows onto the walls of her makeshift cell, and Skye hugged her arms around her body to suppress a shudder. At least someone seemed to have removed the two darts from her body, although her thigh and shoulder both ached as a reminder of the assault. 

Finally, her gaze settled upon the last corner of the room, where Skye could just about make out a hulking shape crouched down in a squatting position. Her pulse rate picked up as Skye admonished that she was not alone, and began to wonder if it was the man she recalled from the woods; the one who had the power to create blue light and absolutely no need for an Optometrist. 

Skye swallowed hard, battling another wave of nausea as she continued to stare at her room-mate, who she was certain from their tense posture was aware of her presence. It was as she was considering her next course of action, and debating whether she should call out a greeting or attempt a take down, that the figure appeared to decide to break the silence. 

“Of all the god-damn people I could be held hostage with...” a painfully familiar male voice ground out, causing the hairs on the nape of Skye’s neck to stand erect. 

“No...” she hissed on impulse, hating the way her voice quivered on the way out to belay her fear and anguish. There was a dry, throaty chuckle in response, and Skye knew immediately that she had not been wrong. Realisation hit her with the full force of Mack truck, and Skye slid down the wall, her head dropping into her hands. 

“What’s the matter, Skye?” the man demanded, his tone heavy with sarcasm. He cocked his head to the side, staring at Skye from the shadows, evaluating her. Slowly, he leaned forwards, throwing his features into the dull light cast from overhead, and bringing absolute certainty crashing down around Skye’s ears. She lurched forwards and vomited again until she was choking on bile. 

With a mocking smirk and a shake of his head, Grant Ward taunted, “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the views, kudos and comments on the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one. I'm going for a slow build up to the drama, so be warned. 
> 
> Also, please can someone hold my hand for the finale? I have a bad feeling the SS Skyeward is about to hit a giant iceberg.

The room should have been literally falling down around their ears, and yet nothing had happened. Not so much as a tremor or even a slight wobble could be felt, and so Skye continued to stare at Ward dumbly as she waited for her powers to oblige her. After several moments of silence had elapsed, still without incident, Skye had come to the conclusion that there was something horribly wrong with her. 

The sudden absence of her powers should have been a cause for celebration after the heartache and pain they had caused her thus far, but the unusual churning of her stomach and the way her vision danced as though she were riding a merry-go-round told Skye that she had little cause to rejoice. She was almost certain that whatever drug was rushing through her system had robbed her of her powers; perhaps her only true form of defense against the monster she had suddenly found herself caged with. 

Skye swallowed hard and pressed herself into the wall, refusing to squirm under the intensity of Ward’s gaze. The look in his eyes was an unfamiliar one, so much unlike his usual predatory glint, that it took Skye a while to place it; wariness. Grant Ward was actually somewhat afraid of her, or at least of her reaction to his proximity. The realisation sent a surge of pride coursing through Skye and she straightened up slightly in response, trying to make herself appear immediately more threatening despite the fact that she was still wearing her Snoopy pyjamas. 

Ward finally looked away, his eyes ticking to the metal door as though now Skye were awake, he expected it to open. A cursory glance around the cell told Skye that there were no obvious cameras or microphones located anywhere, and very little else to suggest just exactly where she was being held. Given Ward’s presence, and his only mildly disheveled state, Skye shuffled Hydra to the bottom of her already lengthy list of potential kidnapping suspects. Since Ward’s very loud and open betrayal of Whitehall and, indeed, the entire organisation, Skye doubted very much that he would still have been breathing had Hydra somehow managed to snare him. Whoever was holding them evidently wanted them both alive, and that left few possibilities when it came down to the duplicitous Grant Ward. There wasn’t an organisation in all fifty states that he hadn’t managed to piss off completely during the last year, and Skye struggled to think of even one well known contingent that would not take him out back and put him out of his misery. Holding someone captive required thought, resources and effort, and so Skye could only assume that those holding them thought they had something lucrative to offer. 

For just a moment, Skye considered engaging Ward in conversation. There was every possibility that he had been conscious when she had been placed in the cell with him, meaning that he had potentially already caught a glimpse of their captors. 

Skye opened her mouth but, seeming to sense the action, Ward’s eyes flashed to her face and she fell immediately quiet. Her heart continued to thrum irregularly in her chest and Skye sucked in a steadying breath in an effort to bring her pulse rate down. However, with the gesture, her stomach only lurched again and Skye fell forward onto her knees, dry heaving over the floor. 

“Nausea should wear off in an hour or so,” Ward’s calm tone finally broke the quiet, and Skye’s head whipped up as she met his gaze. He appeared to be watching her with just the slightest air of sympathy, and Skye bristled at the idea. 

“I’m fine,” she snapped, falling back into a sitting position and desperately trying to ignore the fact that her head felt far too heavy for her own body. Whatever substance was contained in the darts that had hit her was certainly doing a number on her system. 

“Suit yourself,” Ward replied, seeming nonplussed by her obvious anger, although Skye assumed that it was an emotion he had become rather well acquainted with since Hydra had come out of the shadows. 

The pair lapsed back into complete silence, each avoiding the other’s gaze, Skye certainly trying to pretend that she could ignore Ward’s physical presence altogether. 

She hugged her legs into her chest and rested her chin atop her knees, doing her best not to shiver despite the chills that surged throughout her body every couple of seconds. Skye felt feverish and somewhat disorientated, but the hand she wiped across the back of her forehead told her that she most probably was not running a temperature. However, the hoodie she had been wearing over her nightclothes had been removed and was nowhere to be seen, leaving her to face the draughty cell in a tank top that had a slumbering Woodstock emblazoned on the front. Skye blew out a breath through her cheeks and allowed her forehead to fall against her arm as she contemplated the fresh misery of her situation. 

When Ward’s voice rumbled through the silence again, seeming somehow closer, Skye’s head whipped up in alarm. However, she found the man on his knees in the centre of the room, holding out the brown leather jacket he had been wearing only minutes before. 

“Here,” Ward said, gesturing to the garment, which was draped over his extended arm. “You look like you need it more than I do.”

“I’m fine,” Skye immediately replied, mentally cursing her own hastiness as she continued to stare almost longingly at the jacket. It sure did look warm. 

“It’s not going to bite you,” answered Ward, shaking his head in obvious exasperation as he bucked the jacket at her again. 

Unable to resist a sneer and a sly barb, Skye retorted, “I was more worried about it stabbing me in the back.”

Rolling his eyes, Ward tossed the jacket across the room so that it landed just shy of Skye’s sneakers. He retreated back to the wall and stretched his legs out in front of him, eyes never leaving Skye’s face.

“You’ll change your mind,” he promised, sounding so assured and certain that Skye had to bite the insides of her cheek to prevent from telling him exactly where he could shove his jacket. The fact was, she knew that he was right; she would eventually change her mind, if only to keep from dying from hypothermia before the team could manage to rescue her. Several minutes later, Skye was shrugging the jacket on over her shoulders and resisting the urge to let out a sigh of relief as the lining of the warm leather kissed her goose pimpled skin. 

She shot a quick glance at Ward, certain that the ghosts of a smile were fading from his lips. However, she made the effort to brush aside her annoyance just this once, thankful beyond measure for his minor sacrifice. She had shot him not three months ago after all and, although it wasn’t an action that she had come to regret, it was hardly one that commanded his benevolence. 

Skye went back to worrying her bottom lip with her front teeth, still very much conscious of the churning in her stomach and still very much trying to ignore it, lest she embarrass herself yet again. She was just beginning to contemplate broaching the subject of how exactly Ward had come to be locked in a windowless room with the SHIELD agent that had tried to kill him, when he cleared his throat, drawing her gaze. 

“Look, I know you hate me...” Ward began, his expression somewhere between hesitant and vaguely remorseful. 

“And the award for ‘understatement of the century’ goes to...” Skye interjected, just loud enough for Ward to decipher her mumbling. He closed his mouth for a moment but did not look away, regarding her for a few seconds as though he were trying to make his mind up about something. 

“Don’t interrupt,” he finally commanded, ignoring the derisive snort that escaped Skye’s lips as he continued, “I know you hate me but whether we like it or not, we’re kind of in this together. At least for now.”

“I guess,” Skye ground out grudgingly through clenched teeth that were more to do with her growing urge to vomit again than her residual anger at Ward. 

“If we share our intel., then maybe we stand a good chance of getting out of wherever here is in one piece,” he finished, facing Skye with both palms spread out in front of him in a gesture that was oddly placating. Skye tried hard not to allow her treacherous eyes to flit to Ward’s biceps, which peaked out from beneath the short sleeves of the black t-shirt he wore. Skye noted a laceration lining his left forearm, which appeared to have been recently bleeding, and she wondered momentarily as to exactly how Ward had been subdued long enough to ensure his capture. 

Realising that Ward required an answer, Skye bobbed her head, against her own better judgement. Whilst she would never go so far as to place her trust in her former SO again, she was nowhere near arrogant enough to believe that she could find a way successfully out of her prison alone, unarmed, and without the slightest idea as to who her adversaries were. If Ward knew something useful then perhaps he could help her escape, and if he was foolish enough to attempt to betray her again, then her aim had improved exponentially within the last few weeks. All she needed was a side arm. 

“Okay,” Skye said, voicing her agreement. Ward nodded once, his stoic expression giving nothing away. 

“So, how did you wind up here?” Ward inquired, cocking his head as he regarded Skye. She paused, realising that she would need to choose her words carefully if she was to hide the existence of her powers whilst also giving enough away to prove a useful corroboration to Ward’s intel. 

“You first,” Skye finally settled on, crossing her arms in front of her stomach and staring at Ward. The muscles in his jaw twitched, perhaps out of slight annoyance, but he nodded his head in the next instant.

“I was cooking dinner, actually,” he stated, smirking as he watched surprise flood Skye’s features. “I have... had... an apartment in Mexico. It’s just a rental with a friend until we both get back on our feet but... it was pretty nice.”

“This is enthralling and all,” Skye growled, bristling in irritation, much to her own surprise, “but can we fast forward to the actual point of this conversation?”

“Right,” Ward relented, suddenly all business as he answered, “two hostiles, one came in through the front door, and I have no idea where the hell the other came from. He just sort of...”

“Appeared in a flash of blue light, ala Sam Beckett?” Skye inserted, consenting to the tiniest of smiles as Ward gazed at her with confusion written all over his face. 

“I guess,” said Ward, frowning as he recalled the attack and how the two subjects had somehow managed to get the drop on he and Kara in record time. It had been almost embarrassing, and Ward was left faintly concerned for Kara’s well being since the last time he recalled seeing her she had been lying in a pool of blood that ebbed from a nasty head wound. 

“I don’t remember them carrying any weapons but this one guy... It was the strangest thing...” Ward murmured, seeming to become lost in the hazy memory. 

“He had no eyes?” Skye helpfully suggested, only for Ward to return to staring at her as though she had sprouted another head. 

“No, that was the other guy,” Ward answered, emphasising the word pointedly. “The first guy, it was like when he touched me, there was electricity coursing all through my body.”

“Is this really the time for a sexual revelation, Ward?” Skye quipped, enjoying the glower Ward bestowed upon her more than she really should have. Despite his betrayal, it appeared that Skye still viewed irritating the man as sport. 

“When he touched me, he shocked me. Like an electric shock,” Ward explained, adding as an afterthought, “but I guess you didn’t meet that guy.”

“Nope, but he sounds real swell,” replied Skye as she brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ears. 

“He must have stuck me with some kind of needle. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in here a couple hours later with a major headache. Then they brought you in,” Ward finished, crossing his legs at the ankles and suddenly shooting Skye a pointed look. She sucked in a deep breath, preparing to pick over her own words with a fine tooth comb before she so much as uttered them.

“I was on leave,” she lied, surprised by how easily the line came to her and how she found herself able to meet Ward’s gaze levelly. As a child, she had always been an atrocious liar, which she had assumed was a consequence of growing up surrounded by a gaggle of nuns. There was something undeniably formidable about looking one of God’s servants in the eye and telling tall tales, and it was a challenge that Skye had often found herself unable to rise to. Usually, if her guilty facial expressions had not been enough to give her away, then the glaring inconsistencies in her stories had done the trick. 

“Anyway, I was in bed on an epic Netflix binge, I heard a funky noise outside, and when I went to go look, Captain Blinky Bill grabbed me,” Skye explained, adding hurriedly, “I guess he must have drugged me too.”

Ward rubbed the nape of his neck with the palm of his hand as he appeared to mull over Skye’s story. 

“How did I get in here?” Skye asked, glancing at her surroundings quickly almost as though she had expected something to change in the last five minutes. She was disappointed to find herself greeted by the same four, white washed walls, and the grubby looking mattress that she would rather die than consent to sleep on. 

“Some woman. Brought in a few guys with her as muscle,” Ward replied. His brows knit together and his features settled into a pensive mask.

“Great, so... Powered people,” Skye guessed, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat. “I don’t suppose either of your guys stopped to explain their nefarious plan to you?”

Ward actually smiled; a genuine quirk of the lips that brought light to his entire face. Refusing to be captivated by the uncharacteristic gesture, Skye looked away, settling her gaze instead on the heavy metal door. 

“I guess we’ll find out when they’re ready,” Ward muttered, resting his head back against the wall and allowing his eyelids to flutter closed. Skye watched him for barely a moment before her eyes dropped to her hands, and she began to contemplate the snippets of information she had gleaned from Ward. 

In reality, they were no closer to working out an escape plan or determining just who had ordered their separate yet simultaneous abductions, and to what end. Skye pulled the borrowed jacket closer around her shoulders, telling herself that the comfort she derived from it was solely against the cold, and that the scent of Ward that still clung to the leather did nothing to calm the fearful racing of her heart. The fact that her pulse had slowed to a more respectable rhythm was purely coincidental. 

Perhaps she was getting just a little bit better at lying.


End file.
